


Unorthodox

by Ravenstag



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gore, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Multi, psychic driving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenstag/pseuds/Ravenstag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hannibal wasn't the Ripper after all? Dr. Frederick Chilton, long term fan of the psychic driving method, was the true man behind all of the madness.</p>
<p>Hannibal was just a weapon.</p>
<p>Explicit scenes in later chapters including a threesome, dubious consent. Will be Hannigram heavy in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sowing the Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these characters, much as I wish I could. I currently don't have a beta reader, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Thank you for reading. :D

“We are both pioneers of more unorthodox treatments in the field of Psychiatry, Doctor Lecter.” Chilton’s voice was calm, monotone, as he sat across from the taller man in Hannibal’s ornate office. This was before Will Graham, before Jack Crawford, when the two psychiatrists knew each other well. “As well as in other pursuits, yours culinary, mine of a more practical nature.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Chilton was smart and his inability to process meat protein saved him from many of Hannibal’s meals, but he knew.

Hannibal was a cannibal. He’d seen the papers, the man confined himself to purchasing organs from the hospital or the cadavers of the recently deceased, but that didn’t change things for Chilton. Hannibal the Cannibal, it had a nice ring to it, and he knew he could use it to his advantage. Having consulted with the FBI in the past, he had useful knowledge on how to twist a case to his advantage, how to direct the agents away from some evidence but towards another. He would lead them all on a merry chase and they would remain none the wiser.

However, Chilton was often confined to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He wasn’t as free to pursue his pleasurable hobbies as he’d like. He needed a pawn, someone he could manipulate, and Hannibal Lecter fit the bill. Proud, a little quirky, with a trait that could dispose of the evidence. This seemed to be the perfect time to test what he had read about in his medical books, psychic driving. Inside his briefcase lay everything he needed – a muscular paralytic drug to subdue Hannibal, a flashing light to induce a seizure like state, and psychotropic drugs should the need arise.

The problem remained that Hannibal was naturally suspicious, which did not work in Chilton’s favour. He also held his alcohol quite well and he doubted that he could slip something into the man’s drink without him noticing. Damn that man for being so perceptive. He waited for an opportune moment to excuse himself, taking out the syringe secreted away in a pocket. Coming up behind the taller man, he curled a strong arm around his neck. Squeezing. Suffocating. Hannibal struggled, but he went down soon enough. 

Before the man could come to, Chilton injected him after finding a convenient place. He took the downtime as an opportunity to place the objects around the room, setting the light alongside Hannibal, and resuming his position in the chair across from him. When the man awoke, Chilton spoke in a soothing voice. “You’re waking, waking in a light room, you’re safe. Just listen to my voice, Hannibal. I will be your guide.”

Hannibal’s pupils were blown and the normally strong man found himself susceptible to what Chilton was doing. Thus, the doctor began sowing the seeds of his master plan. It would take a few more visits to the other doctor to get him to believe that he was the Chesapeake Ripper, Chilton’s brain child, but in the end, he knew that he would succeed. At first, Chilton thought to himself, Hannibal would not take part in the murders. Hannibal would simply prepare the meat that he was provided and believe that he was the man who had retrieved it. In time, he would get the other doctor’s theatrical whims to actually assist him in what he was doing.

If the FBI came, he would be ready, he would manipulate them too. Hannibal would be the pretty face that he could hide behind, and the man was charismatic enough to divert attention away from them. He could manipulate them as Chilton would manipulate him.

So it begins…


	2. Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed since Hannibal has undergone "treatments" from Chilton, markedly changed. Mildly jealous of the professional relationship Hannibal has with Will Graham, Chilton seeks to reassert his claim over the other psychiatrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I don't own these characters and I have no beta reader, so all mistakes are my own. Small smut scene in this chapter with more to come in the future. Comments always loved.

It had been one year since Chilton’s successful manipulation of Dr Lecter, using the very treatment that the two men had spoken of those months ago. The men had resumed their posts, one believing nothing had happened and the other knowing very well that things had changed. Chilton had already begun his game, giving Hannibal the meat from his kills to prepare. Visits were made as the psychic driving continued, and when the pawn was in place, it only took the right trigger to move him across the chessboard that was Virginia.

Garret Jacob Hobbs was that trigger. A serial killer, who “honoured” the bodies of his victims. _Ridiculous_. Chilton knew better. Though Hobbs was apparently venerating the deceased, Frederick knew they were little more than effigies that represented Hobbs’ daughter. The one he wished to kill but could not. That was, until Chilton took an interest in the case. He had just the pawn to take on Hobbs, and using Hannibal and the FBI, he manoeuvred them towards finding the killer.

Though, there were more obstacles now than there was when Chilton had begun his little game. Hannibal had a patient he was connecting with, a certain Will Graham, an outcast. Much like Hannibal himself had been in his youth. The mastermind behind the plan knew more about Hannibal than he would let on to those on the outside, and he did not like the unknown factor that was Will Graham. He would have to remind Hannibal, when he was susceptible, who he belonged to.

Meetings were arranged and the good Dr Lecter was brought in under the guise of consulting on a case, though he was taken to Chilton’s office when he arrived. Polite words were exchanged on both sides, though curt and cold until they knew they were alone. This was where a year’s work became evident, as rough lips sought the gentle bow of Hannibal’s, calloused hands moving down the tweed jacket that covered the “soldier” he had created months before. Buttons were undone, jackets discarded, before lips met flesh and the gentle down of Hannibal’s chest hair. 

The cannibal would exhale soft, pleased sounds, before letting a sweet moan pass his lips once he felt teeth and tongue tease a nipple, exciting him and making his nipples rise into rosy peaks. The normally reserved man would fall apart before Chilton, hands sliding up into his hair and tugging on it, the anticipation sending tremors down his spine. “Strip,” He would command, as he watched the chef disrobe obediently before him, “then come to me.” Lips crashed together and a brief fight of dominance was all too swiftly won by Chilton. His game had been played well, and he found toying with Hannibal this way made him much less jealous of the man with the dog problem.  
A hand fisted around Hannibal’s shaft and jerked him possessively, Chilton taking an earlobe into his mouth and tugging on it painfully, as he delighted in the sounds Hannibal made as he was tortured between pleasure and pain. Hannibal curled his head against Chilton’s neck and murmured a soft “Frederick”, before being rewarded with a squeeze of his weeping erection. Oh, how that made Hannibal yowl. 

With a few more, swift, business-like jerks, Hannibal was spilling pearlescent, viscous liquid into his hand. Far too proud of himself, Chilton sat down in the chair behind his desk and took out the handkerchief from the pocket in Hannibal’s discarded jacket, smirking smugly as he wiped his hand clean. He looked at the rosy complexion of his fellow psychiatrist and couldn’t help the self-satisfied tone that crept into his voice. “Well, why don’t you sit down, we can talk about why I brought you here, and then _you_ can return the favour, Hannibal.”


End file.
